A Darcy Thanksgiving
by lacorsetiere
Summary: Clint Barton plays bodyguard so Darcy Lewis can travel home for Thanksgiving. Nothing involving Darcy is ever that simple
1. Chapter 1

**A Darcy Thanksgiving**

By lacorsetiere (formerly iyaorisha)

Timing: let's say the fall after the events in _The Avengers_. Manhattan has begun to recover from the Chitauri attack, but Darcy's only recently arrived so she hasn't had a chance to wreak too much damage of her own.

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton eventually.

Summary: Clint plays bodyguard so Darcy can travel home for Thanksgiving. Nothing involving Darcy is ever that simple.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen/PG-13 for violence, bad language, and icky injuries in the first couple chapters. Probably PG-13/mild R before it ends.

Spoilers: Major spoilery for all of the Marvelverse movies (up through _Thor: The Dark World_) and for the first season of the ABC show _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._ Really though, it's so thoroughly tainted by my own head canon that I might be forgetting something so I apologize in advance.

Feedback: Desperately seeking it! This is my first attempt at writing in this fandom. This fic was conceived while I was trying to find a cheap flight home for Thanksgiving and discovered you can fly cargo class if you don't mind giving up creature comforts. I know that I suck at making up titles, so I'm open to suggestions.

Disclaimers: I don't own anything here. I'm not making money off any of these. Just having fun.

Thanksgiving was Darcy Lewis' favorite holiday. Lots of people had family drama on Turkey Day, but it was the one special occasion that her relatives to be counted on to act like sane people. Well, as sane as could be expected from people who fought over the Tofurky Jurky Wishstix™. Still, it was a comforting insanity. Unlike the Avengers-related craziness around her. So Darcy desperately needed Thanksgiving with her family, simulated turkey bones and all. Which is why, two days before the holiday, she found herself bursting into Agent Coulson's office waving her rejected leave request form in her fist.

"No? Seriously? NO?!" She yelled. "Because I'm pretty sure that the new hire orientation packet specified Thanksgiving is a day off for non-essential S.H.I.E.L.D. civilian personnel." Darcy was bluffing because she didn't actually read the packet.

Coulson didn't look up from his stack of forms. "Ah, but you _are_ essential personnel, Ms. Lewis. By virtue of your relationship with Dr. Foster, you are essential to her emotional health. Which is critical to her continued ability to focus on rebuilding the Bifrost. If you were abducted or…compromised, it could set her work back for the foreseeable future."

Darcy stared at the man in disbelief. Is that how he'd really see something awful happening to her? As a setback to a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission? _Yeah_, a little voice in her head said. _The guy probably saw the 8 seconds he was dead as a temporary setback._ "But…" she said.

"No buts, Ms. Lewis." Coulson interrupted. "The fine print on your contract says that you can't set foot outside the Five Boroughs without a S.H.I.E.L.D. escort." Darcy made a face because she hadn't bothered to read her contract either. At least not beyond lines that stated the salary plus major medical coverage for her new position as "primary companion to S.H.I.E.L.D. consultant Jane Foster, Ph.D."

Coulson continued. "Normally, I'd send a Level 5 agent with you, but anyone not on actual leave for the holiday will be working."

Something whizzed over Coulson's shoulder to land on his desk. Darcy yelped and took a step back before frantically scanning the back of the small room for the source of the attack. Coulson didn't flinch. "Barton. Air vent," he explained as he picked up the object. Darcy squinted at the narrow slits of the grate covering the vent. She couldn't see the master archer or figure out how he'd fit anything through the tiny openings.

"A paper dart? Are you in fourth grade." Coulson chided the air vent's occupant. Still, he unfolded the missive. Scrawled across the sheet of paper was "I'll do it".

Coulson shook his head. "No. You're on medical leave for two more weeks."

The next paper dart clipped Coulson's ear lightly. He turned to glare at the air vent. "Make that three more weeks."

This time Darcy retrieved the message, tearing the edges a little in her haste to unfold it. "No turkey. No parade. Might as well be useful." She read aloud. "Huh?"

Coulson sighed. "Barton has a broken jaw from the Avengers' last run in with the Doombots. It's wired shut for a few weeks so he can't eat solid food." There was a wistful sounding clunk from the air vent. "And Director Fury thought it an unnecessary security risk to have Avengers actually marching in the Macy's Parade." The next clunk sounded resentful.

Something that the senior agent would have vehemently denied was a smile ghosted across his lips. "He actually can talk, but no one can understand him."

"Sorry," Darcy called out. A split second later, a third paper dart landed gently in her hair. She tugged it loose and read it. "Tell him that I can go baby sit you or he can stay here to babysit both of us." She showed the note to Coulson. "Please?" She grinned mischievously at the senior agent and was rewarded with an air vent clunk that sounded a lot like laughter.

"Fine. The two of you deserve each other." Coulson made a dismissive gesture and returned to his paperwork. "Go. Make travel arrangements. Barton, keep her on a ridiculously short lease. And I expect you both to return in 72 hours without a single scratch."

Darcy blew a kiss at the air vent as she left.

Two hours later, Darcy stared at her Stark tablet in disgust. She should have guessed something was up when Coulson yielded so easily. True to his word, the senior agent immediately cleared Darcy's travel to Chicago under Barton's supervision. However, even the brief delay on the day before the busiest travel day in the U.S. meant that she had missed booking on flights that would allow a roundtrip within Coulson's 72 hour limit.

A paper dart landed skittered across the tablet. "Hey!" she exclaimed before looking up at the air vent above her sofa in Avengers Tower. She unfolded the note. "Flying coach sucks. Let's hop a StarkIndustries jet."

"I can't just borrow a jet from Tony Stark."

Another dart rained down. This one fell inside the loose neckline of her oversized Culver University t-shirt to wedge between her breasts. She scowled at the vent before fishing it out. "Yes, you can. Stark thinks you're totes adorbs."

"Great." She muttered. "I'm team mascot."

The clunk above her head was clearly amused.

Despite, Barton's assurances Darcy was too uncomfortable to ask Stark directly. But a quick call to Pepper Potts got the plane and a substitute pilot reserved for an 8 AM Wednesday flight to Chicago. The generous CEO threw in door to door car service on both ends, a full champagne breakfast on board, and what she described as "the cutest cabin crew men in the StarkIndustries air fleet". If Pepper thought Darcy's "choice" of traveling companion odd, she kept it to herself.

The same was not true of Darcy's parents. If Lida and Ben Lewis had been delighted by Darcy's news that she would indeed make it home for Thanksgiving, they were outright delirious when she asked her mom to ready the guest room because she would be accompanied by a friend. Darcy had a bit of trouble explaining to her mom that the man she was bringing home for Thanksgiving was definitely just a co-worker and not a boyfriend.

"No, Ma, he's not gay." she whispered, peering nervously at the ceiling vents. "It's um…complicated. He's uh…recovering from an accident and our boss asked me to keep an eye on him because he doesn't have a family."

If there was any subject that engrossed Darcy's mom, Lida, more than matchmaking, it was illness. Darcy spent the next five minutes recounting the Barton-approved cover story for his injuries: He worked in security at StarkIndustries (Darcy's parents knew nothing about S.H.I.E.L.D. and thought she was interning in the municipal relations office of SI's consumer products division.) Barton was injured when he interrupted and foiled the robbery of the new Starkphone prototype. He had a broken jaw, couldn't speak clearly so he'd write notes on a Stark tablet, and would need liquefied meals during his three day stay in Chicago.

The cover story must have satisfied Lida because she stopped interrogating Darcy about her unexpected guest's romantic eligibility and started asking about his food preferences. "Ma, I really don't know him that well," Darcy said in exasperation. "I'm sure he'll be fine with soup and some protein shakes. I really gotta go. Thanks, Ma. I love you and Daddy. Can't wait to see you."

At 2 AM, JARVIS woke Darcy with the news that weather forecasts for the Midwest were calling for airport closures by mid-morning. If she still wanted to make the trip, the AI could secure seats for her and Barton on a StarkIndustries cargo plane bound for Vancouver. That flight was scheduled to leave LaGuardia at 4 AM and could make a stopover in Chicago ahead of the predicted storms.

"Sounds good, but I oughta check with Barton first. Can you patch me through to his room? And put it on video."

JARVIS complied. A few seconds later, Darcy was (virtually) face to face with a bare-chested Barton. The master archer's physique wasn't as impressive as Thor's or Captain America's of course, but she still had to stiffle an instinctive wolf-whistle at the sight of his biceps, pecs, and abs.

He held up his Stark tablet on which he had written "What?"

Darcy quickly explained the weather situation and JARVIS's offer. Barton ran a hand roughly over his already sleep-rumpled hair and then gave her a thumbs up before clicking off.

It took a skipped shower and the fast suitcase packing of her life, but before sunrise, Darcy was airborne. She was thoroughly disappointed that she wouldn't get to check out the rumor that the Starkjet featured stripper poles. And flying cargo class definitely didn't include a full champagne breakfast. Or cute crew men, just two dour-faced workers in jumpsuits who accompanied the cargo.

Worse still, the cargo compartment was near freezing and so noisy that even if Barton's jaw hadn't been wired shut, she wouldn't have been able to understand a word he said. They both donned noise-cancelling earphones and then wrapped themselves scratchy, dusty smelling blankets that Barton snagged from a box at the front of the plane.

Nonetheless, beggars can't be choosers. In a couple hours, she would be home for Thanksgiving. Nothing else mattered.

Well, at least until she felt Barton tense beside her and Darcy looked up from her Stark tablet to see the younger of the jumpsuited crew men pointing a gun at them.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Darcy Thanksgiving**

By lacorsetiere (formerly iyaorisha)

Timing: let's say the fall after the events in _The Avengers_. Manhattan has begun to recover from the Chitauri attack, but Darcy's only recently arrived so she hasn't had a chance to wreak too much damage of her own.

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton eventually.

Summary: Clint plays bodyguard so Darcy can travel home for Thanksgiving. Nothing involving Darcy is ever that simple.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen/PG-13 for violence, bad language, and icky injuries in the first couple chapters. Probably PG-13/mild R before it ends.

Spoilers: Major spoilery for all of the Marvelverse movies (up through _Thor: The Dark World_) and for the first season of the ABC show _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._ Really though, it's so thoroughly tainted by my own head canon that I might be forgetting something so I apologize in advance.

Feedback: Desperately seeking it! This is my first attempt at writing in this fandom. This fic was conceived while I was trying to find a cheap flight home for Thanksgiving and discovered you can fly cargo class if you don't mind giving up creature comforts. I know that I suck at making up titles, so I'm open to suggestions. I also suck at writing action scenes.

Disclaimers: I don't own anything here. I'm not making money off any of these. Just having fun.

Chapter 2

The crew man with the gun mimicked pulling off their headphones, which they quickly did.

He yelled. "Let's do this the easy way."

Beside Darcy, Clint Barton quirked an eyebrow.

"Well," the crewman amended, "Not as easy as we planned before you two showed up. But easy enough that I don't have to put a hole in your girlfriend's pretty little head. In other words, don't be a hero, dude."

Beside her Barton nodded, and the man seemed satisfied, though he kept the gun trained on them.

In the harsh lighting of the cargo plane's hold, the gun looked enormous. Darcy wanted to close her eyes so that she wouldn't see when it fired, but found she couldn't override the basic field training that even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s civilian employees had drummed into them. _"If you are held hostage, pay attention to everything,"_ Darcy could hear her instructor saying. _"The detail that seems the least significant may be the critical one to aid in your escape or rescue."_

So, details…

Well, the goon with the gun trained on her and Barton was the younger of the two crew men who had accompanied the cargo. He was also alone. His co-worker (partner-in-crime?) must have left his seat in the cargo hold while Darcy was engrossed in a article on her StarkPad tablet. She guessed that the older man had entered the cockpit. She wondered whether the pilot was in on whatever the crew men had planned or if he was as shocked as she had been to find himself at gunpoint.

What else?

Um, the man had a fine sheen of perspiration across his forehead despite the frigid temperature of the cargo hold. And he kept touching the back of his neck with his free hand. So, he was nervous. Maybe this was Sweaty's first time hijacking a plane? Or perhaps he was just thrown by the unexpected passengers accompanying the cargo of Stark phones. Either way, if he was nervous, then he might make mistakes that could be turned to Darcy and Clint Barton's advantage.

She didn't know the master archer well at all, but his reputation for getting out of tight squeezes with his hide more or less intact was legendary around S.H.I.E.L.D. If the man holding the gun on them had a weakness that could be detected, Hawkeye would find a way to exploit it. That knowledge alone was sufficient to calm Darcy enough to better focus on the situation. Well, that, and the reassuring feel of his solidly muscled thigh pressed against hers. She wasn't alone. She was with an Avenger. Judging from the tension in his leg, a pretty pissed Avenger, though the expression on his face conveyed confusion and fear to their captor.

Sweaty seemed to be buying Barton's act. Yep, Darcy thought, clearly a newbie at this holding people hostage business. So, probably not the goon-in-charge, then. That, too could be manipulated.

Darcy knew that, as a highly trained and experienced S.H.I.E.L.D. operative, Barton should be the one to talk to the subordinate bad guy. Subtly probe him for hints about cracks in his faith in and loyalty to the mastermind. Feed his insecurity and resentment. Somehow, she didn't think the technique would be as effective carried out through paper dart notes and Stark Tablet IMs. With Barton's jaw wired shut, it would be up to her.

"Um, I don't know what you got planned, mister. But my boyfriend and I just want to go home for Thanksgiving. That's the only reason we're on board. We don't care about the cargo. When we land in Chicago, you can take whatever is in the boxes, and let us go. Please?" She gave him the puppy dog look that sometimes worked with the Level Two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents when she wanted to take Jane out of headquarters for some fresh air.

Sweaty laughed. "It's kinda cute that you still think we're landing in Chicago." He caught Barton's eye and then leered, "Tell me you aren't dating her for her brains."

Thankfully, Sweaty meant his comment to be rhetorical because he didn't wait for Barton to respond. Instead, he shifted his gaze in the direction of the cockpit, then darted a glance at his wristwatch before looking back at the front of the plane.

Darcy's stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly. Normally she'd be horrified, but she was too busy trying to turn it to her advantage. "Excuse me," she said, trying to sound as embarrassed as possible. "I haven't had breakfast yet. Not even coffee. I can't wait until we land… wherever we're going. I mean every airport has a Starbuck's, right."

Sweaty shook his head. "Not this one."

Darcy gave the gunman a disappointed look. So, not a major airport then. "Ok, I'll settle for a Caribou Coffee. Or even a Dunkin Donuts."

"No." He wasn't even looking at her when he replied, his attention divided between the cockpit door and his wristwatch.

Darcy continued prattling. "A Biggby's?"

Sweaty glared at her. "There's no Dunkin Donuts. No Biggby's. No nothing. Just a place to put this plane down, offload the phones, get paid, and be done with the two of you. So shut up." He turned to Barton, "Dude, your girl's got a nice rack, but I'd have to muzzle her."

Darcy pretended to be insulted and pulled the heavy, scratchy blanket in her lap up to her chin as though she was trying to cover her breasts. Hands thus concealed and trying to move as imperceptibly as possible beneath the, Darcy thumbed on her StarkPad. She silently thanked her high school's strict "no texting in class" policy for her ability to tap out a message one handed without any giveaway expression on her face. Still, she didn't dare do more than send "SOS. Not going 2 O'Hare. Maybe a private airfield." to JARVIS, knowing the AI would alert Tony Stark immediately.

Over the next few minutes, Sweaty grew even more nervous and impatient. His glances toward the cockpit and then his wristwatch became more frequent and longer in duration. The gun drifted slightly each time his attention was distracted.

Eventually, Sweaty's nerves got the better of him and he actually stood up.

In the same moment, Barton kicked the man in the solar plexus.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Darcy Thanksgiving, Ch. 3**

By lacorsetiere (formerly iyaorisha)

Timing: let's say the fall after the events in _The Avengers_. Manhattan has begun to recover from the Chitauri attack, but Darcy's only recently arrived so she hasn't had a chance to wreak too much damage of her own.

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton eventually.

Summary: Clint plays bodyguard so Darcy can travel home for Thanksgiving. Nothing involving Darcy is ever that simple.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen/PG-13 for violence, bad language, and icky injuries in the first couple chapters. Probably PG-13/mild R before it ends.

Spoilers: Major spoilery for all of the Marvelverse movies (up through _Thor: The Dark World_) and for the first season of the ABC show _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._ Really though, it's so thoroughly tainted by my own head canon that I might be forgetting something so I apologize in advance.

Feedback: Desperately seeking it! This is my first attempt at writing in this fandom. This fic was conceived while I was trying to find a cheap flight home for Thanksgiving and discovered you can fly cargo class if you don't mind giving up creature comforts. I know that I suck at making up titles, so I'm open to suggestions. I also suck at writing action scenes.

Thanks for all of the comments. I'm happy if you've enjoyed it so far and apologize for any errors (grammatical, canonical, or otherwise). I'm also sorry for the long delay. When I wrote as iyaorisha, I had vastly differently life circumstances and often had several chapters done before I began posting. Now, I'm lucky if I can write a paragraph over a weekend. I hope I am making the wait worthwhile. This chapter is short because the holidays.

Disclaimers: I don't own anything here. I'm not making money off any of these. Just having fun.

Darcy was as surprised as the gun man when Clint attacked. The master archer's steel-toed boot hit Sweaty in the vulnerable nerve cluster with devastating force. The goon sharply exhaled and collapsed, firing a shot into the ceiling of the plane as he fell backwards. Then, Barton was on top of him.

Unable to breathe properly, let alone yell for help or fight back, Sweaty was quickly disarmed by Barton. Clint slipped the gun into his waistband and then trussed up their former captor using the man's own belt around his hands and Barton's around his feet. Clint then snagged Darcy's infinity scarf off her neck and used it to gag the goon. It all took less than a minute.

"Wow!" Darcy said. "Wow!"

Clint quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I mean, um, I know you're an Avenger, but" she breathed. "Just wow!"

He gave an amused shake of his head and then put a shushing finger to her lips before pointing at the front of the plane.

_Oh, yeah,_ Darcy though. _Stop babbling like a fangirl. We've still got one more baddie to deal with._

The older man who was Sweaty's partner in crime was still in the cockpit. No doubt with a gun to the head of the pilot. The thought sent icy chills down Darcy's spine. But the odds were in their favor now, right. Sweaty was tied up, Barton had a gun, and she had…

Darcy suddenly remembered something and bent down to rummage in the bottom of her messenger bag. When her fingers pushed aside a couple lip gloss containers, a handful of hair ties, and a third of a smushed Pop Tart to brush cool metal, she gave a happy cry of relief.

"Sweaty, meet Sparky!" She cackled as she pulled her tazer out of the bag to brandish it at the bound gunman. She was tempted to give him a taste just because of the crack he'd made about her breasts.

Clint gave Darcy a thumbs up. It made her feel more glowy than it should have, but she chalked it up to effects of the adrenaline and not the frank approval in the master archer's eyes. _Were they blue or green? Focus, Lewis!_ She stood up and took the slightly wide stance that fellow tazer-wielder Coulson had shown her after her S.H.I.E.L.D. basic field training instructor gave up trying to force Darcy carry a firearm.

Barton nodded and then began moving toward the cockpit.

Darcy kept the tazer trained on Sweaty. She gave him what she hoped was a menancing glare, but the truth was, he didn't need any extra scaring. The man was perspiring so hard now that his sweat had completely darkened the silk scarf gag. _Eww,_ she thought, grossed out. Then, piqued because sweat stains never came out of silk and the vintage sari print scarf had been a birthday gift from Pepper Potts. She'd had it less than a month. _S.H.I.E.L.D. is why I can never have nice things,_ Darcy thought bitterly, still rankled by the loss of her iPod.

Then, she had greater concerns because a shot rang out and then the plane lurched sickeningly before starting what was unmistakably a dive.


End file.
